A Poem for Christmas 2012

“Christmas doesn’t come from a store, maybe Christmas perhaps means a little bit more….”
― Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas

“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.”
― Charles Dickens

I sit in the quiet of my home tonight,
Amid the glow of lights on my tree.
The stockings hang empty and limp
Their loot plundered and spilled free.

The wonderment of their little eyes
In the wee hours of the morn
Accompanied with squeals, laughter,
And gratitude their hearts adorned.

Their eager hands moved rapidly
As they unwrapped each and every gift.
The cascade of discarded wrappings
Created a paper current and tidal rift.

I marveled in their unbridled joy,
Open to the magic we so easily forget,
Loving life with unencumbered hearts.
Watching them my eyes fill and cheeks are wet.

My heart squeezed tight and my mind reeled.
The years will fly by and this magic will wane,
This time is so short, too soon it will end.
My “mother’s mind” will hit replay again and again.

And as I watch them sort through toys and gifts,
I’m reminded of the greatest gift of all.
That Gift of perfect Love, Word made Flesh,
Humbled Child, our Savior – if we heed His call.

Do they know? Have I done enough?
Do my girls really comprehend?
Are they lost in their wants and Santa’s list?
The seed I planted, was it cast on the wind?

Then they both stop and turn to me.
Eyes soft, tender gazes, and in my arms they fly.
Their whispered words of love and thanks,
My heart knows, they understand why.

The gifts under our tree speak their own language,
But the love we show to one another every day,
Is a seed planted by those before us –
Those who understood and now point to the way.

The legacy of love is the seed which I planted long ago.
It will grow with time, joy, patience, and care.
Its fruit will be kindness, humanity, and peace
Whose value exceeds the store bought gifts we share.

In time, they will gather a new seed to plant
In the hopes that it, too, will bear love’s fruit.
It will grow in knowledge of its life’s Source.
A humble baby who came to pilfer sin’s loot.

Live well….and always with the Spirit of Christmas in your heart.

How BIG is Your God?

(Special thanks to Tom and Sherry for permission to honor God through their family. Love you guys….)

I wonder if you, Reader, have ever thought to ask yourself that question. It never occurred to me. For my friends Tom and Sherry, it was asked and answered for them when their 23 year old son, Jette, died unexpectedly last week. Upon hearing the news, I remember laying my head on my desk at work and just weeping; my mind reeling with questions, my heart breaking for my friends. See, this family is so dear to me and my girls. Tom and Sherry are Grace and Anna’s god parents. The girls. Oh, the girls. How would I make them understand? The questions I knew they would ask. Their hearts would be broken – they loved their Jette. Everyone did. I can say that Jette’s earthly life was a testimony to his love for Christ. Tom and Sherry’s response to Jette’s death is a testimony to the “BIGNESS of our God.”

I spoke with Tom and Sherry briefly before the service last Saturday. My sweet friends. What possible condolences could I offer them at this time? It was Sherry’s proclamation that ministered to me the most. As we embraced, she whispered in my ear, “Kelli isn’t our God such a BIG God? He’s so BIG! I never would have thought. You’ve been through this with your Mom. You know how big he is – remember? I know something good will come from this.”

As I withdrew from her embrace, the conviction of her words was right there in her eyes. Yes, I do know how big God is; not in dealing with the loss of a child, but after losing my Mom and stepdad and then going through a difficult divorce. I have been covered in His bigness.

The Bigness of my God didn’t mean there would be no tears in my life – I have cried plenty.

The Bigness of my God didn’t mean that every question was answered – they weren’t and at times I wasn’t sure what questions to ask.

The Bigness of my God didn’t mean I wouldn’t despair at times – because I did.

But the Bigness of God should remind us that while our hearts may be sad at our earthly losses, or the questions of why things happen go unanswered – He is still there. He is waiting in our sadness, our loneliness, our anger, our despair. He is not offended by our questions. He doesn’t tire at our tears. He meets us right where we are in that moment. He is Big enough to be right there and remind us that in His love, He has a plan. That plan is bigger than anything we are brave enough to imagine. While we can’t see the whole spectrum of what He knows, we are assured that our lives, our work, and all that we can accomplish, play a part in the perfection of that plan.

Tom and Sherry have the assurance that even though their hearts break at the earthly loss they have surrendered, Jette’s life and death is part of something BIGGER than anything any of us may ever see. Our only call is to have faith to believe and trust in who He is…

Romans 8:28 says: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His Purpose.”

For Grace and Anna, their hearts were broken, not because Jette was gone; but because they didn’t have a chance to say good-bye. Perhaps that is a good thing….good-byes seem so permanent. Anna said it best the other night.

“Mom, just think of all the people waiting for us in Heaven: Jesus, Ganny, Pa, Great-grandma Ruth, Grandpa….and, my Jette. It’s nice to know he will be there. I can’t wait to see him again.”

“Me too, Anna. Me too.”

For my two girls who are trying hard to understand death and dying, God brought them comfort from their assurance in Heaven and all the promises He makes. Yes, Sherry, I remember how BIG my God is and I too believe He makes everything work for good.

Live well and wallow in God’s BIGNESS!!

Random Reflections on Italy

Having made Italy a bulleted item on my bucket list, I was determined to go no matter what – even if that meant going alone. About six weeks before my departure, Ruthie, a college friend called me up very early one morning while I was getting ready for work and asked if she could tag along with me. Of course! Traveling alone is a good thing to do from time to time and I was prepared to go it alone in Italy. I was fairly certain that I would be fine by myself, but it was nice to know that I would have someone to share this adventure with me. I like to share – hence, I write.

I feel confident that I will never be the same since we returned from Italy. First of all, there is nothing I can’t do now. I got on a plane and flew to another continent, knowing very, very little Italian, having no idea how to get around Rome and basically being cut off from my family and friends back home. Ok….I was wasn’t really cut off. The hotel had free wi-fi so I was able to communicate through social media and I did speak to my children a couple of times. I guess the thing that stands out to me is that the only obstacle standing between me and what I want to accomplish is – me. I don’t have to wait for the “right time” when someone else can go with me; besides, my passion may not be someone else’s.

Let’s take that thought one step further. Even when I got home, many people inquired about my trip, but there were few who really wanted to see pictures or hear the play-by-play details of what I saw. While disappointed at first, I realize that my passion of researching and exploring ancient ruins, relics and museum trips would make someone else wish to stick bamboo splinters in their eyes. Luckily for me, Ruthie is easy-going, had studied the same things I wished to see, and really had the patience of Job with me when I couldn’t pull myself away from the Botticelli exhibit in Florence. (sigh) Friends like that are one in a million. I dragged her through every church in Rome between our hotel and the Spanish Steps. After a while, most people would say that if you’ve seen one Roman Catholic Church, you’ve seen them all. Not me. I found a new treasure in each one.

The best part about having her there was that we could talk about things we saw, tasted, experienced and occasionally we talked about life back home. Sitting under a moon in Rome made back home issues seem pretty bearable. I have promised her that she may drag me to someplace on her bucket list and I will tolerate whatever we go through – no whining.

The people of Italy were sweet and so patient with me as I tried to honor them by speaking my broken Italian. It was horrendous, but I do believe the effort I made was greatly appreciated. More often than not, once we were found out as Americans, many Italians asked to practice their English with us. That was fun and it is so educational when you are trying to cross a language barrier with another person. You must think concisely and simply when trying to convey a message to someone who knows very little of your own language.

We also discovered that the Golden Thread of Humanity is very evident as long as you are willing to see things with a new perspective. That often means you must lay aside what you think you know or what you have experienced back home and try to see life through the eyes of those you are visiting. I don’t have to understand everything or even agree with it; but, I am a better person because my respect for others has grown tremendously. I can celebrate our similarities and learn from our differences.

Another thing I took away from this trip was the importance of trying things the locals suggest. My expertise with Italian food and wine was limited to the Olive Garden and cheap wine. Here, I quickly learned that traditional pasta is a side dish for most Italians. I ate an enormous amount of fish in Italy. I had sea bass, swordfish, salmon, tuna, more sea bass and fixed in ways I never dreamed about. The Italians were pleased to make recommendations to us and we were never disappointed. Mealtimes are a formal affair in that there is an order to the dishes and it is expected that every member of the family participates. Restaurants, like Ristorante 34, are filled with the locals, who showed us how important a meal is to the Italians. We witnessed boisterous laughing and people talking constantly. Mealtime is a social affair where people show their gratitude for what they have, including one another. There is no rush to get through a meal and clear the table. Ruthie and I learned to linger over our meals and we didn’t get up until the wine bottle was empty, our palates were tantalized and dessert had been consumed.

This was taken at Ristorante 34. Left to right – Ruthie, Lorenzo (our favorite waiter) and myself

While I wish I could say that I have carried that same spirit back to America, it has been eaten alive by schedules, homework and long hours at my office. However, I remember what Italy looks like, sounds like, feels like and tastes like; she is never far from me. I will return to her one day; she has many treasures left for me to find and open.

Salve Italy!!

Live well, Reader.